An Ordinary Day  Pegasus Style
by SGAFan
Summary: Another ordinary day in Pegasus, turns out to be not so ordinary, when unlikely trouble comes from an unsuspected source.


**An Ordinary Day – Pegasus Style**

_Setting: Season 1, between Hot Zone and The Siege_

"Now."

Rodney's words pulled John from his thoughts. He tore his gaze from the data pad he held, cradled in his left arm. "What?" he said, a frown still creasing his forehead.

"Now!"

"Oh." John set down the data pad and closed his eyes, refocusing his attention on the inactive device cooling the palm of his hand. "On," he muttered. Obligingly, the device lit up and started emitting a low hum as it warmed his skin. He opened his eyes and looked at Rodney. "Tell me again, why you need me to play light switch here?"

Rodney's sigh was near martyred levels. "I need to focus on the initialization process. I can't do everything at once!"

John arched a brow. "You're letting me down, McKay."

"Funny." Rodney tapped a few keys on his LSD. "What is that anyway?" Never looking up from his own data pad, he waved dismissively at the one sitting next to John.

John sighed quietly and looked back down at the figures he couldn't ignore, his voice lowering. "Ammo inventory." He picked up the pad.

"We… have a problem?" Rodney's voice rose slightly in alarm as he paused in his work.

"Not yet, but we will." This time, John's sigh was louder. "It takes a hell of a lot of ammo to kill a Wraith. More than we'd planned for." He shook his head. "Had we known what we'd be facing coming here, we would've brought a lot more ordinance, and different kinds."

"Had we known what we'd be facing, I don't think we would've come here in the first place," Rodney answered.

John's brow quirked and he nodded. "True."

Rodney set down his data pad. "How bad?"

John paged down through the data a couple times. "We'll be in a tough spot in six months tops, depending on how much Wraith resistance we encounter in the meantime."

"Then what? Spears and knives? Bows and arrows?" Rodney's voice rose again.

John grimaced. "I'm hoping it doesn't come to that." His lips quirked as he mulled over the problem. "Maybe we could make our own."

"Well, look on the bright side." Rodney picked up his data pad again. "The Wraith will probably attack Atlantis in less than six months anyway."

John glared at Rodney. "That makes me feel a whole lot better, thanks."

"_Major __Sheppard,__ you__ there?"_

John's gaze narrowed at the familiar, very informal hail. Only one person on Atlantis was that casual in radio conversation. He tapped his headset. "This is Sheppard. Phil?" he asked, naming the wise, old SGC janitor who'd joined the expedition. "What's going on?"

_"Major,__we__ have__ a__ bit __of__ a __problem,"_ Phil answered. _"We __need __you __in __the __conference __room."_

"Oh," Rodney snorted softly, "him. Whatever it is, it can't possibly be as important as what we're doing here."

John arched a brow. "I'm playing light switch. That sets the importance threshold pretty low."

"Until we find that crucial piece of technology that helps us defeat the Wraith," Rodney shot back.

John ignored his comment and tapped his head set. "On our way." He stood. "Come on. This will have to wait."

Rodney didn't budge. "Custodial concerns are very low on my list of priorities."

John hardened his look. "They just got a lot more important. Phil doesn't call unless there's a real problem." He turned towards the door, confident that the note of command in his voice ended the discussion, and as he exited the lab, he heard the heavy footsteps follow him.

* * *

><p>"They are called Keenai." Teyla folded her hands on the conference table. "They are very common on many worlds I have visited, and my people have seen them on the mainland as well." She smiled. "Some people even take them as pets. They are very docile and are harmless."<p>

"Except when they plague the city's ventilation system," Rodney answered, as he typed away on his laptop. "We've re-calibrated the sensors to scan the ducts, city-wide." His expression turned dour. "The infestation is extensive but looks like it's still limited to the central tower."

"That's where the people are," Phil commented, "The air's warmer and they're more likely to find food."

John nodded. "Makes sense." He stared at the image on a display situated in the corner of the conference room. The Keenai seemed to be some sort of a rodent cross between a gerbil and a rabbit, showing traits of both species, and about the size of a small rat. He had to admit, it was kind of cute.

"Honestly," Rodney groused, "can't the zoology department keep their cages locked?"

"They didn't come from our labs," Doctor Morrill answered coolly, "though if we could capture a couple of them for study, that would be ideal. They seem to be rather… promiscuous."

"You can have all of them," Rodney answered., "Just get them out of my ventilation system."

"Yours?" John arched his brows at Rodney. "C'mon, McKay, you have a cat back on Earth. You like furry little animals."

Rodney glared at him. "Okay, firstly, cats aren't furry little animals. They're intelligent, independent companions. Secondly," he waved at the display, "they eat things like that. Big difference." He returned his attention to the data pad on the table in front of him. "The last thing this city needs is to be overrun by the Pegasus version of Tribbles," he muttered.

"Tribbles?" Teyla questioned.

John glanced at her. "I'll tell you later."

"They're probably from the mainland." Rodney sat back in his chair. "Otherwise Atlantis would've detected them on any jumper coming back through the Stargate."

"And not on one from the mainland?" John cocked his head.

"No," Rodney sighed. "Because of the massive power requirements, we can only aim the biosensors at the Gate Room."

John nodded silently, fighting a quiet dread that someday that particular detail was going to bite them in the ass, but at the moment, they didn't have an alternative.

"How do we get rid of them?" Elizabeth leaned back in her chair.

"The Keenai are very fond of the Popu fruit," Teyla answered. "We may be able to trap them using it as bait."

"Didn't they serve some of that in the mess a few months back?" John asked, the name sounding familiar to him and triggering vague memories of a purplish round fruit about the size of a walnut that tasted a lot like a kiwi.

Teyla nodded. "Yes. It grows abundantly on the mainland."

"Where there's Popu, there's Keenai?" Phil commented quietly.

John flashed a half smile at him. "Sounds like it."

"I'd rather the traps be humane, if possible," Elizabeth added. "I don't want to kill them unless necessary." Elizabeth turned and looked at the display, her expression softening.

"They are pretty cute."

"Want a pet?" John asked, his smile turning to a grin.

Elizabeth shook her head. "No. Cute on the screen, but… no. Too much like a… mouse." She winced.

John chuckled. "No mice for you?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "No," she answered definitively. "Though, I'm sure there would be interest in the general population." She smiled a little. "We can talk about that after we get them under control."

"My people can assist in building humane traps." Teyla pushed back from the table. "If someone could take me to the settlement, we can design these traps and gather Popu fruit."

"I'll do it," John volunteered as he also pushed back from the table. He froze at Elizabeth's raised hand.

"Normally, I'd say yes, Major, but we also need to send someone to M2C-677 for supplies. The mission is set for three hours from now."

John relaxed back in his chair. "Oh, yeah. The Daenari." They'd spent a lot of time building trust between the Daenari people, who, with their gate in orbit, had been isolated on their planet for generations. They'd only just recently managed a hard-earned trade agreement for food.

"Three hours may not be enough time," Teyla added.

"Anyone can pilot Teyla to the mainland, Major, but the Daenari know you." Elizabeth smiled slightly.

"Yeah," John nodded. "I'll do it. Miller can take Teyla to the mainland instead."

"Markham's team can go with you, if you need assistance," Elizabeth offered.

John shook his head. "Nah. There'll be plenty of Daenarians that can help me load the supplies." He shrugged. "I got it covered." He turned in his chair as the conference room door opened admitting Ford who entered, cradling something in his hands.

"Look, we caught one." He smiled big. "Isn't it cute?"

John stood and walked over to the lieutenant, everyone else doing the same. He looked down at the tan fluff of hair sitting quietly in Ford's hands and moved a little to his left as the others gathered around the animal. The Keenai wrinkled its nose, its whiskers twitching, but other than that, it didn't move.

"It doesn't seem bothered at all that it was caught." Morrill sounded slightly disbelieving. "It's essentially a wild animal. I would've expected it to be somewhat agitated, at least at first."

"Never was," Ford answered. "I found this one just outside a ventilation shaft near the infirmary." He shrugged. "It just let us pick it up."

"The Keenai are always like this," Teyla answered, "even in the wild. As I said, they are very docile and harmless creatures."

John reached out, and gently ran a finger over the soft fur of the animal before pulling away as Teyla, Morrill and even Rodney did the same. He looked past the group at Elizabeth, who kept her distance, and bit his tongue to keep from commenting on what was apparently a phobia for her.

Elizabeth returned his look with an irritated one of her own. "Don't start, Major," she warned.

John's lips quirked. "Wouldn't dream of it." But he could tell by her expression that she didn't believe him for a second.

"Interesting," Morrill observed. "I'd think being that docile, would make them easy prey in the wild, yet they seem to flourish. Probably why they have such high reproduction rates."

John glanced at the fond expression on Rodney's face as he pet the creature again. "Thought you didn't like furry little animals, McKay."

Rodney looked up at him and abruptly pulled away, his back stiffening. "Yes, well… no."

Elizabeth walked a little closer. "First things first. We need to get them rounded up and under control." She looked at Phil. "Can you work with Lieutenant Ford to come up with some sort of holding area for these guys? Cages? Something?"

Phil nodded. "Of course."

John watched Ford and Phil leave the conference room. "Some things never change," he shook his head. "Every base I've ever been on had problems like this with local wildlife. Worse one I saw was camel spiders in Afghanistan. Damned things were all over the base, showing up in the weirdest places. Found one in my bunk one time."

"Camel spiders?" Rodney answered. "Aren't those really… big?" his voice rose slightly.

John nodded. "Yeah, and all legs. Got a nasty bite on them too."

"Thank you for that vivid image, Major," Elizabeth shuddered. She sighed and shook her head. "What next?"

John shrugged. "Just another ordinary day in Pegasus," he answered as he led them towards the door.

"Right. Alien rodents infesting the ventilation systems of a ten-thousand-year-old spaceship city," Rodney shot back. "How very ordinary."

John quirked his brows but didn't answer as he pondered how much his threshold of what was considered normal had changed.

* * *

><p>He settled back in the pilot's seat, letting the hum and slight vibrations of the jumper relax him. His hands resting lightly on the controls, he stared out the window, watching the clouds wisp by as he descended into the planet's atmosphere. After chasing Keenai for the better part of two hours, he'd welcomed the peace and quiet. Besides, it was nice to be on his own for a change. He'd spent a fair amount of his career, especially in recent years, as an outsider, with only himself for company, sometimes by choice, sometimes not. But that had changed dramatically since he'd stepped through the gate to Atlantis. Isolated as they were, the expedition team was a tight-knit community, and with living spaces limited to specific areas of the central tower, it was close quarters.<p>

The clouds parted and he continued his descent before leveling out, swiftly crossing a large plain, the grass waving in the air displaced from the swift jumper. In the distance, he could see the Daenari village and he sent a quick, mental order to the jumper to decelerate.

John sighed, smiling slightly at the light mental connection he maintained with the jumper. Even after months of flying them, he still was amazed at the mental component of the technology, and just now getting used to it. They'd managed to map most of the basic jumper commands to various controls on the dashboard, but John still preferred the mental commands over the physical ones. There was something about the connection that appealed to him. Besides, he was convinced the jumper reacted quicker this way, and in a potentially dangerous situation, where every half second counted, he relied on that connection, so he liked to keep his skill set sharp.

Retracting the drive pods, he smoothly landed the jumper just on the outside of the village. He squinted at a group of Daenarians walking down a narrow dirt path towards him and then exited the jumper, meeting them half way. John nodded at the man in the lead. "Armat."

The Daenarian, Armat, nodded back. "Colonel Sheppard. It is good to see you again." Slowly, a smile creased his weathered features and with one hand, he brushed a lock of silver hair away from his face. "The medicines you provided have greatly helped us. You have my thanks."

John smiled in return, a flush of satisfaction coursing through him. "Good to hear."

Armat waved back towards the group of men who stood behind him. "We will help you load the supplies we promised you in the trade. Our harvest was bountiful and we have much to offer."

John held his smile. "Good to hear. Let's get to it."

* * *

><p>Elizabeth's eyes skimmed over the latest exploratory survey report on the east tower. It was full of information on more labs and more living quarters, but nothing else of interest. She pushed back from her desk and sighed. In a city the size of Manhattan, there had to be something, somewhere they could use against the Wraith.<p>

She looked up from her desk as her headset chirped at her.

"_Doctor__ Weir,__ this __is __Beckett."_

Elizabeth tapped her headset. "This is Weir. Go ahead, Carson."

"_Elizabeth,__ five__ people__ have__ come __into __the __infirmary__ in__ the __last __half__ hour__ with __flu-like __symptoms."_

Her awareness sharpened and she sat up straighter in her chair. "Do you have any idea what we're dealing with?"

"_No,"_Carson answered. _"_At this point, it could just be a run-of-the-mill bug. Three of the patients are from the zoology department, so it's possible one caught something and passed it to the others.___"_ Even over the radio, she could hear his sigh. __"It's probably nothing, but if too many more patients come in with the same symptoms, we may have to consider some quarantine protocols." __

Elizabeth nodded to herself and tried to quell the alarm in her gut. "Okay. Keep me posted."

_"Will do. Beckett out."_

Elizabeth turned in her chair, her gaze fixing on the inactive Stargate. She tried to dismiss the sense of foreboding that swept through her, but she couldn't shake it.

* * *

><p>John sighed as he settled heavily into the pilots chair and closed the back hatch of the jumper. An hour of loading and securing supplies had left him physically beat. Normally, he'd call it a 'good tired', the kind that meant you'd accomplished something, but he only felt drained. He grimaced at the pounding in his head, chalking up the overall 'off' feeling in his body to the incessant pain. He sighed and touched the control panel, bringing the jumper to life. The sooner he got back to Atlantis, the sooner he could get some Tylenol from Carson and maybe a nap. Sure the jumper was stocked, but he didn't see a need to raid those supplies when he'd be back in the city in fifteen minutes.<p>

He looked out the windshield, confirming that the Daenarians were a safe distance away, and gently eased the jumper off the ground, feeling the little ship immediately compensate for the extra weight. He silently ordered the drive pods to engage, and piloted the jumper up through the clouds. As the atmosphere thinned around the craft, the light sky turning to the dark of space, John winced as his stomach did what he could only call a somersault. He swallowed hard against a bout of nausea, and his brow wrinkled in confusion. Pulling up the HUD, he squinted at the inertial dampener settings, reassuring himself they were normal. "Okay," he muttered, "not that." He grunted, squeezing his eyes shut as another bout of nausea washed over him, this one followed by a sharp pain in his gut. Sweat broke out on his brow as he breathed through the spasm.

In the distance, he could see the gate, and he focused on it, trying to tune out another wave of nausea and the throbbing in his head. "Damned flu," he groused quietly, hoping he was wrong but suspecting he was right. He'd never been good at being sick, especially now. There was too much to do for him to be down with a stupid bug.

His irritation only made his head throb more so he tried to push it aside, but as his stomach lurched again, it took everything he had not to lose his lunch. When he was sure he had control again, at least for the moment, he reached out with a shaking hand for the DHD, hastily dialing Atlantis' address, and watched as the wormhole flushed into existence. Taking a deep breath, he did his best to stabilize his voice. "Atlantis, this is Sheppard. Sending IDC. On final approach from Danarea." He started to punch in his code when abruptly, the engines on the jumper died. At almost the same moment, the wormhole shimmered, and disappeared, the gate disengaging. "What the…"

He reached for the DHD and tapped the first glyph of Atlantis' address, but this time the device was unresponsive. He looked at the distant Stargate and wondered if he was too far from the gate for a stable connection. Grabbing the controls once more, he ordered the jumper engines to engage, the Stargate the focal point in his view, but the engines didn't respond. Sighing, he tapped the manual control for engaging the engines, but the dash remained dark and the almost eerie silence around him proved that the engines were still offline.

John sat back and winced as another spasm rippled through his gut. "What the hell is going on here?"

Elizabeth mulled over the latest report from Phil and the team handling the Keenai. Teyla and a few Athosians had returned from the mainland only a short while ago, but the Popu fruit and the traps they'd built were proving to be effective. They anticipated having all the Keenai captured within a few hours. From there, most would be taken back to the mainland and turned lose in their natural habitat, a long ways from Atlantis, though the zoology department asked to keep a few for study. In the back of her mind, she worried over the potential medical situation as well, and the foreboding feeling Elizabeth couldn't shake only deepened as Carson's hail came over her radio.

"_Doctor __Weir, __this __is__ Beckett."_

She pushed back from her desk and stood, knowing from the tone of his voice that he didn't have good news for her. She tapped her headset. "This is Weir. How are things down there, Carson?"

"_Not __good,"_ Carson's voice was concerned. _"I've__ had__ ten__ more__ people__ in__ the __last__ hour__ with __the__ same__ symptoms,__ most__ of__ them __from__ other__ departments __besides__ zoology. __I'm __recommending __we __go __to__ Stage __One__ Quarantine__ protocols __immediately. __I __need__ anyone__ with __any__ flu-like __symptoms__ to__ report to __the __infirmary __right __away."_

Elizabeth's mind raced as she mentally pulled up the quarantine protocols. Stage One meant a self-enforced quarantine of all non-essential personnel as well as a quarantine of the infirmary and a suspension of all gate travel. "Carson, do you have any idea what we're dealing with or where it came from?"

"_It's __a __bacteria, __I__ can __tell__ you__ that __much,"_Carson answered._"It __appears__ to__ have__ a__ very__ quick__ incubation,__ and,__ from__ the __looks__ of__ things, __it's__ highly __contagious.__ I've__ already__ started__ the __first __batch__ of __patients __on __fluid __therapy__ and __a__ broad-spectrum__ antibiotic. __I've__ got __one__ patient __with__ complications__ from__ dehydration __and__ developing __sepsis,__ but__ the__ others__ appear __to __be __responding__ well__ to__ the __treatments.__ It's__ too __early__ to__ tell__ for__ sure.__"_

Elizabeth started towards Ops. "We'll initiate the Stage One quarantine immediately and I'll get biology and microbiology to assist you with identifying this bacteria and how to fight it. Let me know whatever else you need."

_"Aye,"_ Carson replied. _"Becket t__out."_

Elizabeth walked across the bridge between her office and Ops, stopping in front of one of the large control panels, where Rodney was typing on his laptop. He looked up at her, his expression concerned.

"Did I just hear Carson recommend a Stage One quarantine?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes. Put me on city-wide." She waited a moment for her order to be carried out and took a deep breath before speaking. "Attention everyone, this is Weir. We have a potential medical situation on Atlantis and I am initiating a Stage One quarantine. All off-duty personnel are to report to their quarters. Anyone with any flu-like symptoms needs to report to the infirmary immediately. I will give you more information when we have it. For now, I'm asking for your cooperation. Thank you."

"Weird."

Elizabeth turned her attention to Rodney, who scratched his head before resuming typing on his laptop. "What?"

Rodney looked up. "If Carson has enough sick people to recommend quarantine protocols, why hasn't the city reacted with a lockdown?"

Elizabeth was at a loss. Rodney had a point. The city should've detected the bacteria and initiated lockdown protocols like it had with the nanite outbreak. She looked over her shoulder as the Stargate activated.

"Probably Sheppard," Rodney said. "He's the only one off-world right now."

Elizabeth nodded. "He'll have to stay put for a while. No one on or off Atlantis while we're in quarantine." She pursed her lips, her memories fresh of the last time she'd ordered a quarantine. He hadn't listened to her then, and the pain of that betrayal was still fresh. She pushed it aside. "And figure out why the city hasn't reacted to this outbreak." In the back of her mind, she tried to take that as a good sign. Maybe it was just a garden variety flu bug, and the city didn't perceive it as a serious enough threat…. She stiffened as pieces of a garbled transmission came through her headset.

"_Shep__… __IDC__… __Daener__…__"_

His voice was cut off as the wormhole abruptly disengaged. Elizabeth looked at Rodney. "What happened?"

Rodney stared at his laptop for a moment, before he started typing rapidly. "The wormhole shut down."

She looked back at the gate. "I can see that. Why?"

"I have no idea," Rodney's voice was baffled. "The connection was stable but… wait, that can't be right…."

"What?" Elizabeth stared at him. "What isn't right?"

Rodney looked up at her. "Atlantis terminated the connection." He raised a hand. "And before you ask, I don't know why!"

Her grip on the Ancient console tightened. She glanced at Grodin. "Dial him back, Peter."

Grodin rolled his chair a few feet to the right and quickly entered the address. The wormhole obligingly flushed into existence.

Elizabeth turned towards the gate and tapped her headset. "Jumper One this is Atlant…" her voice trailed off as the wormhole abruptly disengaged. She looked over her shoulder and back at Ops. "Rodney?"

Rodney raised both hands. "I don't know! Atlantis is killing the connection." He started typing. "I need to look at the logs…" his voice trailed off as he swayed alarmingly in his chair, nearly falling over before catching himself on the edge of the control panel.

Elizabeth took a step towards him. "Rodney? Are you okay?"

Slowly, he looked up at her, all color gone from his face. "Dizzy…" He swayed again, and this time, one of the technicians caught him.

Elizabeth shifted her gaze to the technician. "Get him to the infirmary." She tapped her headset. "Beckett this is Weir. I'm sending you another patient."

"_From __Ops?"_ Carson responded.

"Yes," Elizabeth answered. "Rodney."

"_Bloody__ hell,"_ Carson answered. _"I'd__ hoped__ we __had __it__ isolated __on __level __four.__ We'll__ be__ ready.__ Beckett __out."_

Elizabeth watched the technician and Rodney slowly make their way down the stairs and out of Ops before she looked back to Peter. "Pick up where Rodney left off. Find out what's going on with the Stargate, and get me a stable connection to Sheppard."

Grodin nodded and immediately turned his attention to the nearest laptop.

Elizabeth once again tapped her headset. "Lieutenant Ford, this is Weir. Please respond."

"_Ma'am,"_ Sergeant Bates immediately answered her. _"Lieutenant __Ford__ is __on__ his __way__ to __the__ infirmary."_

Elizabeth closed her eyes, her head dropping for a moment as she thought through the problem. She looked up. "Understood. Sergeant, until Major Sheppard is back on base, you're ranking military officer. Since both the military contingent and Stargate Operations have been exposed, I'm making an exception to the quarantine. I need you in Ops immediately."

"_Yes,__ ma'am,"_ Bates answered. _"I'm __on __my__ way. __Bates__ out."_

Elizabeth looked back at the gate, her concern only deepening.

John leaned hard on the console and watched as the wormhole flickered and disappeared. He'd heard a scrap of a radio transmission coming from Weir, but she'd been cut off so quickly he hadn't had a chance to respond. Sweat trickled down his brow and the waves of nausea were almost continuous now. Given that they were having almost as much trouble dialing him as he was them, he concluded that the problems weren't isolated to just the jumper. Though, it didn't fully explain why the ship was totally unresponsive.

John pushed aside the throbbing in his head, forcing himself to concentrate. He wrapped his hands around the controls. "Gate," he muttered, but the ship still didn't respond. He thought harder, pushing with his mind, urging the jumper to comply, trying to convey the depth of his need to go to the gate, and at that moment he felt something different. From the first time he'd connected with a jumper, he'd felt a willingness… a desire to do whatever he asked. He'd never been able to explain it, but it was almost like the little ship wanted to do as he commanded. But now, the feeling was completely different, almost resistant.

John furrowed his brows, squeezing his eyes closed even tighter. "Gate," he repeated, but the ship pushed back and the only word he could think of to explain what he felt was 'no.' He opened his eyes. "What's wrong with you… baby?" He managed over huffed breaths as he tried to keep a tight rein on his rebelling stomach.

Closing his eyes again, he envisioned the grasslands of M2C-677 and obligingly, the jumper's engines fired up almost instantly. John cancelled the command and the ship fell silent. _Okay,__ so __you __still__ can__ fly__…__._"Why won't you go to… the gate?" he wondered aloud, looking around the cockpit.

He abruptly turned in his chair and at that moment, his world turned upside down. An intense wave of vertigo rolled over him and this time he couldn't keep the nausea at bay. He was barely able to turn his head away from the controls, before his stomach got the best of him. He'd eaten a decent lunch not long before the mission, and his body expelled every last bit of it, tagging on a couple dry heaves at the end for good measure. His retching subsided and he gripped the edge of his chair and the console, struggling to stay upright and trying to ignore the pungent odor around him that threatened to set off his stomach once again.

Somehow, his scattered brain refocused on the problem and he carefully pushed away from the console. In the back of his mind, he was alarmed at how fast he'd fallen ill and concern ate at him as he realized that he was, potentially, in serious trouble. Immediately, his instinct for self-preservation kicked in, strengthening his resolve.

John slowly tried to stand but his legs betrayed him. As the side of his head contacted with the cool jumper floor plate, his hands and chest encountering something warm and wet he didn't want to think about. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting vertigo and nausea. It was several minutes before he risked movement. Shifting his arms under himself, he pushed his torso up, his arms shaking in the effort and he only got a few inches before collapsing back to the floor with a groan.

He tried again, finding himself in the same position three seconds later. "Damn... it," he managed quietly. He took a breath, and pulled on strength deep within, fortifying his resolve with a healthy dose of stubbornness. He'd survived Wraith, hostile humans and weird energy beings. He damn sure wasn't going to succumb to some stupid Pegasus bug!

He grit his teeth and pushed himself up, relying almost entirely on sheer willpower. On his knees, he grabbed the pilot's seat with both hands and staggered to his feet. He clutched tightly to the seat as the world around him spun and he couldn't decide if it was better to keep his eyes open, or shut. After a moment, his vision cleared and he took one, unsteady step forward, followed by another. Using the chairs around him for balance, he made his way to the back of the cockpit and grabbed the medical kit. He shuffled to the back of the jumper, squeezing between secured stacks of crates and half sat, half collapsed on a small, open spot on one of the benches, dropping the kit on the floor in front of him.

Nausea swept over him again and dry heaves gripped him, the spasms almost continuous, barely allowing him to snatch a quick breath here and there. When they finally subsided, he was mentally exhausted and physically drained. Sweat poured off his brow and soaked his body. He lay on his side and clutched the edge of the bench, his grip on consciousness just as tedious as his hold on the seat. A sharp pain spiked through his gut and he reflexively curled into a near fetal position, his precarious balance on the edge of the bench lost. Unable to stop himself, he fell heavily to the floor of the jumper, the edge of the hard medical kit jabbing him in the ribs, before he came to rest in a narrow space between the jumper's bench and a nearby stack of crates. The pain shocked him, strangely clearing his head, even for just a few moments. He blinked hard, lifted his head and shook it weakly, trying to keep his mind focused. He grabbed the medical kit and dragged it closer to him. There had to be something… anything that could help him.

Elizabeth paced across Ops, her path taking her past Grodin's workstation once again. "Anything, Peter?"

Grodin looked up at her and shook his head. "There's a lot of code here. It's going to take some time to sift through the logs for any clues. I'm going as fast as I can without running the risk of missing something."

She nodded. "I know. I'm sorry. Please, continue."

Grodin's small smile was understanding. He turned his attention back to his computer.

"_Doctor__ Weir,__ this __is__ Beckett."_

Elizabeth walked out onto the Ops balcony and tapped her headset. "Go ahead, Carson."

"_I've__ figured__ out__ the __source __of__ the __bacteria."_ Carson's reply was quick and intense. _"It's__ the__ Keenai.__ Every __person__ who __is__ sick__ has __had__ direct__ physical__ contact__ with __them__ or __with __someone __who __has. __It's __the __only __common__ denominator __among __all __the __victims."_

Elizabeth leaned on the balcony railing and shook her head. "But Teyla said they were harmless and never mentioned anyone getting sick from them."

_"Probably __because__ no__ one __in__ this __galaxy __does__… __anymore__ anyway."_ Carson answered. _"Considering__ Teyla __and__ all__ the __Athosians__ who __have__ been__ in__ contact__ with __the__ Keenai__ have__ had __nothing __more __than __mild __headaches, __if __anything, __it's __likely __they're __immune."_

"Immune?" Elizabeth's mind raced as she tried to wrap her head around what Carson was saying.

"_Aye,"_ Carson confirmed. _"I'm__ surprised__ we __haven't__ run__ into __this __sooner.__ We __may __all __be __humans, __but __we've __evolved __in __different __galaxies. __It's __pretty __much __a __given __that __there __would __be __some __bugs __here __that w__e __didn't __have __in __the __Milky __Way__ and__ vice __versa. __There's __bound__ to __be __differences __in __our __immune __systems."_

Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment. Carson's explanation made perfect sense. "How are the patients responding?"

"_Well,"_ Carson answered. _"Microbiology__ has __mapped __the __properties __of__ the __bacteria __and__ we've __adjusted __the__ antibiotic __treatment __accordingly. __Combined __with __IV __fluid __therapy __to __combat __dehydration __and __possible __sepsis, __most __of __the __patients__ are __responding __very __well."_

Elizabeth furrowed her brow. "Most?"

"_Doctor__ Morrill__ is __critical,"_ Carson sighed in frustration. _"I'm __not __sure__ she's __going __to __make __it."_

"I see," Elizabeth pushed aside her concern and focused on the problem. "Recommendations?"

"_We're__ seeing __patients __from __all__ over__ the __city,"__Carson_ answered. _"I'm__ lifting__ the__ quarantine.__ It's__ not__ doing__ us __any__ good.__ We're__ just __going__ to__ have__ to__ ride__ this__ one__ out__ and__ order __anyone__ who __shows __any __symptoms __whatsoever __to __report __to __the __infirmary __immediately.__ Hopefully,__if __we __catch __everyone __early __enough, __we __can __treat __them__ without __any __more __complications."_

Elizabeth nodded to herself in agreement. "Is everyone who had contact with the Keenai in the infirmary?"

"_All__ but__ one,"_ Carson answered.

She furrowed her brows and at that moment, her thoughts came together. Her jaw dropped as she stared at the gate. "John," she whispered.

"_Aye,"_ Carson confirmed. _"Major__ Sheppard__ had __direct __contact. __By __now,__he's __most__ likely__ very__ sick.__ Without__ medical__ treatment__…__."_Carson's voice trailed off.

Elizabeth's eyelids slid shut and she inhaled deeply before opening them. "I'll let you know as soon as we establish a stable wormhole."

"_Copy __that,"_ Carson answered. _"Becket t__out."_

Untrusting of his legs, John finally resorted, begrudgingly so, to crawling back to the pilot's seat, pulling himself along, using the edge of crates, seats, and anything he could grab onto. The two Tylenol he'd dry swallowed hadn't lasted long as his rebellious stomach had expelled them almost immediately. The dry heaves that'd followed discouraged him from trying again, so he'd focused on his problem as best he could, looking for some way to solve it.

_Where the hell is McKay when you need him? _

Grabbing onto the armrest of the pilots chair, he dragged himself back into the seat. A chill ran through him, even though sweat still trickled down his face. His mind kept wandering, his ears rang and he felt like he'd been run over by a two-ton truck… repeatedly.

John swallowed hard against a dry throat and looked at the dark console. "What would… McKay do…?" he wondered out loud, slightly alarmed at the raspy weakness in his voice. He blinked hard, pushing back the darkness on the edge of his vision. "Diagnostic," he muttered. Obligingly, the HUD came up, displaying several sets of data. He stared at the display feeling somewhat like a monkey staring at a math problem, until his gaze focused on one set of symbols and numbers that jarred a recent memory.

"_It's__ a __code,"__Rodney __proclaimed __as __he__ waved__ at__ the __display __hanging __at__ the __back__ of__ Ops.__"That's__ the __code__ that__ locked__ down __Atlantis __during__ the__ nanite__ outbreak."_

_John shrugged, the significance somewhat lost on him. "Okay, so, knowing that code will let us override the lockdown the next time it happens, if it happens?" _

_Rodney's shoulders sagged. "Well, no. Not really. It initiates the lockdown." _

"_What__ turns __it __off?"_

_Rodney's tone was exasperated. "I don't know that part yet!" _

John nodded to himself. The code was unmistakable, at least to him, but he'd always been good with numbers, and even in his muddled mental state, he knew he was right.

"What's that doing… here?" At a sudden, sharp pain lancing through his gut, he doubled him over with a loud cry, and this time he couldn't quite fight off the blackness that overwhelmed him. He teetered and fell from the chair, but he never felt himself hit the floor.

Elizabeth's breaths were even and quiet. Ever since her conversation with Carson, she'd been rooted in place, her hands cramped from gripping the balcony railing. She knew that on the outside she'd exerted a calm demeanor, but inside her thoughts were reeling. John alone, most likely seriously ill and his life in danger, and all she could do was stand there and stare at the inactive gate. She felt helpless and that feeling grated on her.

"That's it!"

Elizabeth spun at Grodin's exclamation, her eyes widening at the triumphant smile on his face. "What?" She trotted over to his workstation.

"I found it." Grodin quickly turned in his chair and pointed at the display behind him. "Beckett's discovery and the recent quarantine got me thinking about Major Sheppard's current condition and the quarantine last month, so I scanned the logs for any medical references." he pointed at the code blinking in light green on the display. "I found that. It's the code McKay identified as the trigger for the lockdown during the nanite outbreak."

Bates walked up next to Elizabeth. "But these aren't nanites."

"No," Peter answered as he typed on his laptop, "and that didn't make sense to me either because if it was the current outbreak we have in the city causing problems, then Atlantis should've executed a lockdown similar to what we've experienced, but the city didn't react… at least to what was happening here."

"Why not?" Bates asked.

Grodin shrugged. "Well, if Teyla and the Athosians are immune, then it stands to reason that the Ancients were too, as well as the other humans in the galaxy. The city didn't register it as a threat."

Elizabeth sighed. "I'm sorry, I'm not following you. Then how is any of this important?"

Grodin's expression was understanding. "Because in the logs, I found a brief communication record between the jumper and the city when Major Sheppard dialed in. We've seen these logs before but haven't had the opportunity to examine them more closely as they seemed to be a routine part of jumper protocol when returning to Atlantis. However, once deciphered, the log clearly shows that the jumper communicates several pieces of information to Atlantis, including the medical statistics of its occupants. I can only assume that was built in for the very reason we're experiencing right now. It's a safeguard to keep jumper passengers from bringing back any sort of disease or biological danger from off-world."

Grodin waved at the display behind him. "Based on this log entry, Major Sheppard was already getting sick when he dialed Atlantis and the jumper communicated that information to the city." Grodin typed another command and a second log entry showed up on the screen. "I compared time stamps of the jumper's logs against Atlantis' logs and found an entry that coincided. When the jumper communicated Major Sheppard's condition, Atlantis sent the quarantine code to the jumper, preventing it from returning to the city." He looked up at Elizabeth. "The log entry isn't detailed on what is ailing the jumper's passengers, only that they are sick."

Elizabeth took a deep breath and organized her thoughts, trying to wrap her head around everything. "So you're saying that the jumper told the city that its occupant was sick, and the city ordered the jumper not to return? And that Major Sheppard, who most likely has a life threatening illness, is stranded in space in a non-responsive jumper?"

Grodin's expression turned grave and he nodded. "Yes. Though it's theoretically possible that he could return to the planet, if he tries. I believe the code only prevents him from returning to Atlantis, but I'm not positive. It's highly likely that the Major is quite ill. I can't imagine this protocol would initiate simply because the occupant has a runny nose."

Elizabeth nodded, pushing down her concern. "Okay. What do we do from here?"

Grodin shrugged. "My best hypothesis is that, unlike when Atlantis initiated the citywide lockdown, in this case, all we need to do is acknowledge this log entry and Atlantis will allow us to establish a stable connection. That would allow informed and properly equipped personnel to help them."

"That didn't work with the city-wide lockdown," Elizabeth countered.

"Because it was in the city," Grodin answered. "And remember, anyone in hazmat suits were able to move about freely. In this case, medical personnel couldn't help the jumper's occupants unless they could get to them. I doubt the jumper could establish a wormhole to the city, until medical personnel reach Sheppard, but I'm almost positive that, once we acknowledge the code, we can establish an outgoing wormhole to the jumper."

Elizabeth sighed deeply and nodded. "A good hypothesis is better than nothing. Do it."

Grodin looked down at his laptop and typed a long command, before he turned, staring at the display expectantly. Abruptly, data streamed by flashing in various tones of green. Grodin smiled. "I think it worked."

Elizabeth's smile was tentative. "Dial the gate." She turned, her eyes tracking the chevrons as they lit up before the wormhole formed. Rock still, she watched it, waiting as seconds turned into a minute and the wormhole remained connected, shimmering quietly. Her smile turned into a sigh of relief and she immediately tapped her headset. "Major Sheppard this is Weir. Please respond." Her smile faded as nothing but silence greeted her hail. She tried again. "Major Sheppard, this is Atlantis. John? Can you hear me?" Her frown deepened in concern and she exchanged grim expressions with Bates. She switched her headset to an internal channel. "Carson, we have a stable wormhole to reach Sheppard, but he's not responding to our hails."

"_This__ is __Beckett,"_ Carson responded. _"I'll__ meet__ the __team __in__ the__ jumper__ bay."_

Elizabeth turned, her gaze zeroing on Bates. "Get Markham to pilot for you and meet Beckett in the jumper bay. You have a go."

Bates nodded curtly. "Yes, ma'am." He turned and headed for the back stairs, hailing Markham along the way.

"If Major Sheppard is seriously ill, which all indications say he probably is," Grodin walked up next to Elizabeth, "then how are they going to get to him in space?"

Elizabeth fortified her determination. "First we make contact with John. If he can't fly the ship, then we'll figure something else out." She looked at Grodin and voiced her silent thoughts. "One thing at a time, Peter."

Grodin nodded in agreement.

John felt like he was floating, his mind wandering aimlessly in the soft, comforting darkness. In the back of his head, he knew there was something important, something he needed to do, but his scattered thoughts refused to coalesce.

"_Major__ Sheppard,__ this __is __Jumper __Two. __Please __respond."_

The hail sounded distant… insignificant. _Bates._ The quick thought flashed through John's brain and he groaned quietly in response.

"_Major__ Sheppard __this __is __Sergeant __Bates __in __Jumper __Two. __We're __approaching __your __location. __Please__ respond."_

_Bates__… __jumper__… __jumper!_ John's eyes flew open and he inhaled sharply. Pain gripped him, stealing his breath as he wrapped his arms weakly around his midsection. He pulled in a harsh breath and immediately started shivering. Something wet, sticky and cold coated his cheek as he shakily lifted his head. "B…Bates?" he whispered.

"_Jumper __One,__ please __respond!"_

John managed to get one arm under himself, Bates' insistent voice driving him. "Help…" he muttered. On his knees and clinging to the pilot's seat, he reached for the communications console. "At… lantis…." His hand came down hard on the crystals, pressing several of them but he didn't care. He'd managed to hit the one that counted. "B…Bates?" he croaked.

"_Sir!__We're__ in__ Jumper __Two,__right __next __to__ you."_

John's head fell heavily on the pilot's chair, his cheek pressed had into the cushion and he clutched the seat tightly, trying to stay upright.

"_Major,__ how__ are __you __doing?"_ Carson's question acted like a tether, keeping John conscious.

John slowly lifted his head, just a little. "B… been… bet… ter…." he stuttered around chattering teeth. Sweat cooled on his skin, chilling him further, and he couldn't stop shivering.

"_Easy,__ Major, __we'll __help __ye."_ Carson reassured.

"_Major,"_ Bates interjected, _"you're __still __in__ space, __sir.__ Are__ you __able __to __pilot __the __jumper __back __to __the __planet?"_

John's eyes slid shut, and in the back of his mind, he had an errant thought that Bates was crazy. He couldn't even stay upright on his knees without hanging onto the pilot's chair, and now he had to not only fly but land on the planet?

"_Major, __I__ can __EVA __over __to __you__…__"_

That got his attention. "No," he put as much command into his weak voice as he could muster. Through sheer willpower, he forced himself to concentrate. An EVA in open space, with nothing besides a tether? Even if Bates managed to make the crossing, what would he do? He didn't have the gene and couldn't fly the ship, and John damn sure wasn't going to let Carson try it. He shook his head. "No," he repeated. "C… can… fly. Land."

"_Sir,"_ Bates' voice was quiet, _"are __you __sure?"_

John drew in as deep a breath as he could manage. "Y… yes, Sergeant. No… EVA. That's… 'n order."

"_Yes,__sir,"_ Bates responded, though his voice didn't sound convinced.

John took another deep breath and pulled himself up, heavily flopping into the chair. His head fell back for a moment and he closed his eyes, fortifying his strength before he looked down and settled his hands on the console. Closing his eyes, he sent a command to the jumper to return to the planet and instantly, the little ship responded, firing the engines.

John tried to concentrate on the speed, the angle of descent and all other factors he had to consider for passing through the atmosphere and landing, but his mind kept wandering and he couldn't keep his thoughts straight in spite of the information the HUD showed him. Even under normal circumstances, he'd be challenged to pilot the jumper in his current state, but with the complications of flying heavy, he felt his control over his descent slipping away, in spite of his best attempts to hold onto it.

"_Major!__You__ need __to __reduce __your __speed! __Sir,__you're __going __too __fast!"_ Markham's voice sounded alarmed and John tried to concentrate on his words.

Squeezing his eyes shut tightly, he latched onto his connection with the jumper. _Help__ me_, and he instantly felt the ship respond, taking a share of control. John still piloted, but the ship automatically compensated for air speed and angle, helping him, supporting him, but still obeying his commands.

Clouds rolled over the jumper windshield, parting to show the ground rapidly approaching. In a sudden burst of strength, powered by adrenaline, John's sight sharpened and he pulled up on the controls, the jumper immediately reading his actions and decelerating. He hit the ground hard and lurched forward, his head bouncing off the control panel, and the darkness took him again.

Carson was already out of his seat before Markham had completed their landing. Jumper One was down, the landing not as graceful or controlled as they'd liked, but not suicidal either. Urgency drove Carson as he grabbed his medical bag, Bates unanswered hails to Sheppard echoing behind him. He slapped the release for the back hatch just as he felt the jumper settle to the ground and jumped out, before the hatch was completely lowered. Behind him Bates followed, pointing a remote at Jumper One. The back hatch obligingly opened.

"Major!" Carson shouted as he trotted towards the jumper. "Can you hear me?" He pulled a pair of latex gloves from the outer pocket of his duffle and thrust them at Bates. "Put those on," he ordered. "This bugger isn't airborne but it is transmitted by touch. I'll not have ye getting infected." He knew the gesture was probably futile. If Bates hadn't been exposed yet, with the bacteria all over Atlantis by now, it was only a matter of time, but still, protocols won him over.

Wordlessly, Bates took the gloves and shoved his hands into them.

Carson grabbed a pair for himself and ran up the lowered back hatch. He winced at the pungent smell of sweat, vomit and sickness that assaulted his senses but tuned them out, focusing entirely on his patient, as he wove between crates and stacks of supplies. His gaze zeroed in on the pilot's seat as he entered the back of the cockpit.

Sheppard weakly pushed himself up off the pilot's console and turned in his chair before pitching forward.

"Major!" Carson dropped his bag, and lunged, catching Sheppard under the arms as he fell out of the chair. Bates immediately relieved Carson of one of Sheppard's arms, and helped to gently lower Sheppard to the deck.

Carson probed probed Sheppard's neck, quickly identifying the fast tattoo of the major's pulse. Even through his gloves, he could feel the heat of fever radiating off of Sheppard's body.

Sheppard moaned quietly, his eyelids fluttering.

Carson put his hand on Sheppard's forehead for just a moment. "Major? John? Open your eyes, son."

Sheppard's eyelids parted, his clouded, hazel eyes unfocused. "Crsssssnnn," his slur was barely above a whisper.

"Aye," Carson answered gently as the thermometer he held in Sheppard's ear beeped twice at him. "We're going to take good care of you." He looked at the number. "105. We've got to get his fever down." His gaze moved from Bates to Markham who was rushing up the back hatch. "Gloves!" He pointed at the sergeant. "Don't touch anything without gloves." Carson grabbed his BP cuff. "Get a stretcher. I'm getting vitals and starting an IV. Then we need to get him back to Atlantis immediately."

Bates jumped up, grabbed a pair of gloves from the medical bag, and handed them to Markham as they both ran back to Jumper Two for a stretcher.

Carson deflated the BP cuff. "80 over 50," he muttered to himself. He shook his head and rummaged in his bag for a saline IV. "High pulse and respirations. Has to be early stages of septic shock."

"C… cold…" A strong tremble rippled through Sheppard and he started shivering.

Carson finished with the IV, set the bag on the seat above him and grabbed a blanket from his kit. He shook it open and laid it over Sheppard. "Easy, son," he answered quietly, not sure if Sheppard could hear him or not. "Easy." He looked up as Markham and Bates rushed up the ramp, a collapsible stretcher, fully opened and ready to use, carried between them. They stopped at the back of the jumper.

"Too crowded in here," Bates observed curtly. "We'll have to carry him out and then put him on the stretcher."

Carson sighed and nodded. "Give me a hand, sergeant." He shifted around to Sheppard's head and slid his arms under the Major's armpits, before locking his wrists. He nodded at the IV bag as Bates positioned himself next to Sheppard's feet. "Watch the IV. Just put the bag on his chest until we get out of here."

Bates nodded and did as Carson asked, before grabbing Sheppard's pant legs.

Carson staggered more than once as they shimmied, twisted and worked their way out of the crowded jumper and he breathed a sigh of relief as they settled Sheppard onto the stretcher.

"All right," Carson nodded. "Let's get him back to Atlantis on the double." He held the IV bag high as Markham and Bates carried Sheppard to Jumper Two.

Elizabeth trotted out of her office and across the bridge to Ops as the Stargate chevrons lit, indicating an incoming wormhole. She looked at Grodin expectantly as the wormhole shimmered behind the shield.

Grodin nodded. "Receiving Sergeant Bates IDC."

Elizabeth nodded. "Lower the shield." She activated her headset. "Carson, how's Sheppard?"

"_He's__ in__ a __bad __spot,"_ Carson answered, his concern clearly evident in his voice. _"I__ need __you __to__ radio __the __infirmary.__ Notify__ Doctor __Biro __that __I'm__ inbound __with__ a__ septic__ patient. __I__ need__ a __team __ready __as __soon __as __we're__ there."_

Elizabeth looked to one of the technicians who nodded in response and carried out Beckett's request.

"Stand by," Grodin interrupted. "The shield is unresponsive."

"Jumper Two," Elizabeth walked out on to the balcony, "did you hear that? Stand by, the shield is still in place."

"_Copy __that,"_ Bates answered. _"What's__ wrong?"_

"It's the code again," Grodin answered. "Atlantis' computer is waiting for acknowledgment of Jumper Two's sick passenger before allowing them to return." Grodin shook his head. "Amazing. All of the logs are correlated, so the city recognizes that Jumper Two gated to the same location as Jumper One, and is confirming that they're allowed back. It's why the city didn't terminate the wormhole this time." Something akin of wonderment blanketed Grodin's expression. "The level and complexity of that kind of coding…"

"Peter," Elizabeth captured his attention, "the shield."

Grodin snapped himself from his musing and blushed slightly. "Right. Acknowledging code now."

Elizabeth looked back at the gate as the shield deactivated. "Jumper Two, you're clear to return. I'm on my way to the infirmary now."

"_Acknowledged,"_ Bates answered. _"Jumper__ Two __out."_

Elizabeth swiftly walked through Ops and headed for the backstairs. It didn't take her long to reach the infirmary, and as soon as she entered, she had to step aside as a flurry of activity followed her. She caught a glimpse of a portable stretcher, carried by Beckett, Bates, Markham and an SO, before it was placed on a gurney and a mass of medical personnel blocked her sight. They moved to her right and took over one corner of the infirmary, Carson professionally but firmly issuing orders.

She looked to her left and spotted McKay and Ford, both in beds, with Teyla standing close by. Taking a deep breath, she walked in their direction, knowing she'd have to wait for any status update on John's condition. She stopped next to Rodney's bed and smiled. "How are you feeling?"

Rodney's complexion was pale, but his eyes were sharp and showing their usual level of annoyance. "Like crap."

Elizabeth nodded and looked to Ford. "Lieutenant?"

Ford was much more pleasant than Rodney, and smiled back. "Better, ma'am." His gaze drifted away from her and across the infirmary. "The Major?"

Elizabeth turned her head, following his gaze. "I don't know yet. He's pretty sick."

"He's just being dramatic," Rodney interjected.

Elizabeth narrowed her gaze and looked down, meeting Rodney's unwavering stare.

"He'll pull through," Rodney added. "He always does."

Elizabeth softened her expression and nodded. Rodney was never one to convey his feelings very well, but it didn't mean he didn't have them. She looked back across the infirmary, spying glimpses of John between bustling bodies. Even from a distance, she could see the pallor of his face, partially covered by an oxygen mask and he was so still….

"Elizabeth," Teyla's voice captured her attention. "I am sorry. I had no idea the Keenai were a danger to you."

Elizabeth gave Teyla an understanding smile. "This isn't your fault at all, Teyla. There's no way you could've known."

Teyla's smile was thin. "I know. But still…." Her voice trailed off and she shook her head.

Elizabeth held Teyla's gaze for a long moment, pouring as much reassurance and understanding into her expression as she could muster. Spying an empty chair, she slowly sat down and stared at her folded hands as the minutes dragged by. Finally, Carson separated himself from the activity around John and walked towards them. Elizabeth stood in anticipation.

"Carson?"

Carson sighed deeply. "He's stable for now. We've begun an aggressive antibiotic regimen to combat the infection, but that's not my only concern. Sepsis and a high fever are causing complications as well. The septic shock has caused his blood pressure to drop dangerously low. But we're counteracting it with drugs. Hopefully, we can get the infection under control before he sustains any organ damage." Carson's small smile was grim. "It's too early to tell anything right now."

Elizabeth nodded. "I want to see him."

Carson's gaze narrowed. "You really shouldn't. In fact, you shouldn't even be here. It dramatically increases your risk of catching this bug, Elizabeth."

She smiled slightly. "I think at this point, that's inevitable, Carson. Wouldn't you agree?"

Carson sagged slightly before he nodded. "Aye. But I don't like it."

Elizabeth looked down at Rodney and then over at Ford. "Take care, you two. Rest and get better."

"Keep us in the loop," Rodney insisted.

"Yeah," Ford agreed. "Tell the Major we're thinking of him."

Elizabeth followed Carson across the infirmary, Teyla just behind her. As she approached John's bed, she couldn't tear her eyes from his still form. Three IV bags hung over his head next to a beeping monitor, and sweat gleamed on his brow. An oxygen mask covered his mouth and nose, and his complexion was void of any color except the dark circles that underlined his closed eyes. Gently, she sat down on the edge of his bed, her gaze searching his face, looking for any signs of consciousness. "John?" she asked quietly.

His eyelids fluttered and his quiet groan was barely audible through the mask.

Elizabeth looked to her left as Teyla sat down on the other side of him. She returned her gaze to his face. "John? It's Elizabeth. You're back on Atlantis. You're going to be okay."

John's eyes slowly opened, his gaze clouded with sickness. "Sumner… Wraith… no…."

Elizabeth looked up at Carson. "What's he talking about?"

Carson looked up at the monitor behind John for a moment and he shook his head. "Altered mental state. It's a symptom of septic shock."

Without hesitation, Elizabeth reached down, wrapping her cool fingers around his warm ones. In the back of her mind, she knew she probably shouldn't do it, but at this point, she didn't care. She squeezed gently, encouraged when his grip weakly tightened on hers. "John? Can you hear me?"

"Lizbth…" he whispered, his gaze still unfocused.

"Yes," she answered. She watched as Teyla gently swiped a lock of hair back off his brow.

"Be strong, Major," Teyla's voice was soothing., "We are all here."

John's eyelids fluttered again before falling shut as he lost consciousness.

The first thing John was aware of was a warm darkness surrounding him like a blanket. It was comfortable, relaxing, and he relished it. A voice, distant but insistent, pulled at him but he resisted, determined to stay in the warmth.

"Come on, Major, open your eyes. I know you're in there."

As much as he wanted to deny the voice, he couldn't dismiss it, and his mind instinctively latched onto it. The warm darkness faded, replaced by the feel of hotness in his bones and a roaring in his ears. He grimaced and moaned lightly.

"That's it," the voice encouraged. "Come on, son. I know you don't want to, but you need to wake up."

The darkness faded away, replaced by blinding light as he peeled his eyelids open. The brightness sent a shock of scintillating pain through his forehead and he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut against it.

"Welcome back, Major. Ye gave us quite a scare."

He heard a shuffle next to his bed and the light that still assaulted him through his eyelids dimmed considerably.

"That should be better. Open your eyes again," the voice ordered.

John opened his eyes, just a little, his blurry gaze focusing on an intense set of blue eyes and a dimpled smile. "Carson," he whispered.

Carson's smile deepened. "Aye. Good to have you with us again."

"Wha…" he rasped and coughed weakly against a throat that felt like it'd been rubbed with sandpaper… repeatedly.

"Here."

John felt something press gently against his lips and he parted them, relishing the ice chips Carson gave him. He tried to smile just a little as they melted on his tongue, the water soothing his parched throat. "Thanks," he managed.

"You're welcome," Carson answered. "How do you feel?"

John thought for a moment. His head pounded, his body was sore from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, and he felt like he'd gone ten rounds with a Wraith. "Like shit," he answered, smiling just a little at Carson's chuckle.

"Aye, I bet. If you can believe it, your condition's actually improved dramatically. You're a tough bugger, Major."

John closed his eyes, but his smile lingered. "Stubborn," he answered and Carson chuckled again.

"Aye, that too. Get some sleep. We'll talk again the next time you wake up."

John tried to answer, but the floating blackness overwhelmed him again and he succumbed to it.

This time, consciousness came faster.

John pulled in a deep breath and opened his eyes, immediately noticing how much stronger he felt. He managed a lazy quirk of one brow. Strong was a relative term, since he still felt like a newborn kitten could easily kick his ass right now. He opened his eyes, noticing that the beeping on the monitor over his head, sped up slightly. He rolled his head to the right, watching as another doctor… Biro, he recalled, walked over to him.

"Major." Biro grabbed his wrist, taking his pulse. "How are you feeling?"

"Stronger," John answered, noticing that his voice was clearer as well. He watched Biro for a moment. "Beckett?"

Biro smiled as she looked at her watch before setting his arm down and motioning her head towards the other side of John.

John turned his head, his eyes widening at the sight of Carson sleeping in a bed next to him, an IV quietly and slowly dripping just above his head. John looked back at Biro. "He's okay?"

Biro nodded. "Diagnosed it early and started treatment. He'll be fine in a couple days. He knew it was inevitable that he'd catch it, given his level of exposure to so many victims. She held a reassuring smile. "Doctor Weir's down with it as well."

Concerned, John weakly lifted his head off the pillow. "Elizabeth?"

Biro put a hand on his shoulder. "She's okay. Same as Carson. She'll be fine in a few days."

John blinked hard, pulling his thoughts together. "Who's in command?"

"That would be Ford," Rodney stepped around the privacy curtain and stared down at John with a typical annoyed expression. "And Bates. God help us." Through narrowed eyes, he scrutinized John for a moment. "You look better, only half dead instead of ninety percent."

"Nice to see you too, Rodney." John's gaze passed over Rodney's robed form and slippered feet. "Why are you still here?"

Rodney turned his annoyed expression on Biro. "Because this voodoo doctor won't let me leave yet."

"You were severely dehydrated, Doctor McKay," Biro answered. "That slowed your recovery."

John quirked a brow at Rodney's dark expression. "Maybe you should replace a couple of those nineteen cups of coffee a day with some water, McKay."

Rodney crossed his arms over his chest. "Good coffee makes good coding and good science. I can't help it that I'm indispensable in every department. I need that coffee to keep the morons around here from blowing themselves up, or, more importantly, blowing me up."

John dismissed Rodney's ranting, one thought pressing on his mind. "The Daenarians. We need to check in with them."

"What?" Rodney's brow furrowed. "Why?"

"Because I was getting sick when I visited them. I could've infected them with this bug. We gotta make sure they're okay."

"They're Pegasus natives," Rodney countered.

"Who've been isolated from the rest of the galaxy for generations, maybe even thousands of years," John answered.

"Good point," Rodney muttered. "I'll pass it on to Ford and Bates."

John nodded. "Thanks. The Keenai?"

"All happily back on the mainland munching on Popu fruit," Rodney frowned. "Thankfully."

"Good," John yawned, all of a sudden feeling drained.

"That's it. No more work." Biro dimmed the light over John's head. "Back to your bed, Doctor McKay," she ordered. "I'm releasing you tomorrow." Her voice softened. "Major, get some sleep."

John nodded lazily and let his head settle deeper into his pillow.

_Epilogue – 1 week later_

A small smile slowly creased John's mouth as he walked across the bridge from Ops to Elizabeth's office. She sat quietly behind her desk, her brow furrowed as she scanned her data pad. He stopped in the doorway and leaned on the door frame, cocking his head slightly. Her complexion was a little pale, but her gaze was sharp. He cleared his throat quietly.

Elizabeth looked up and returned his smile. "John. Come in."

John pushed off from the frame, walked in, and settled in a chair across from her.

She kept her smile as her gaze passed over him. "They finally let you out? You do look a lot better."

John quirked his brows. "So do you." He leaned back in the chair. "I'm on light duty for another week, but it feels good to get out of the infirmary." He laced his fingers in his lap. "Where are we with this infection?"

Elizabeth looked back down at her data pad. "I was just reviewing that." She sighed. "Most of the expedition has caught the infection and is either through it or going through it right now. Infirmary's still pretty busy. It's the consensus of the medical staff, Carson included, that those of us who have gone through the sickness have at least some immunity to it now, much like the Pegasus natives." She scrolled down through the data. "So far, most of the infected have come through the process with little or no complications."

John furrowed his brows. "Most?"

Elizabeth looked up at him, her expression solemn. "We've had two fatalities. Doctors Morrill and Kenson from Zoology."

John leaned forward. "Do we know why?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "I asked the same question. Medical's not sure, but according to Doctor Biro, it isn't uncommon in situations like this. Unfortunately, you can't expect one hundred percent recovery even in the best of circumstances."

"Small consolation for Morrill and Kenson's families," John answered as he again settled back in his chair. "If we are ever in contact with Earth again," he added.

"I know." She inhaled deeply and returned her attention to her data pad. "Zoology believes the bacteria is a deterrent to predators, sort of like a repellant. They've theorized that while the predators of the galaxy have most likely developed immunity as well, they can smell it or taste it and it's… unsavory. Somehow, it discourages them from preying on the Keenai."

"No wonder the Keenai are so docile," John commented and shook his head slightly. "They don't have much to fear from predators."

Elizabeth set the data pad down. "Medical finally found the bacteria in the Ancient database. It's pretty common all over Pegasus. We were bound to run into it sooner or later."

John nodded. "Nothing like it in Milky Way?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "No." She sighed again. "I'd never really thought of the biological implications of our visiting other worlds in this galaxy. What if do the same thing to Pegasus natives? Cause a plague with something that's virtually harmless to us?"

John shrugged. "The Athosians have lived with and around us for over six months, Elizabeth. I'd take that as a good sign that we're not the bearers of the next Pegasus Black Plague."

She smiled slightly, her expression far from totally convinced. "I know." She took a deep breath. "Speaking of which, Ford sent a team to Daneria shortly after you mentioned their exposure." Her smile grew more relaxed. "They're fine. Apparently, they developed immunity somewhere along the way."

John's smile matched hers. "Good to know." He scrutinized her distant, but intense expression. "Elizabeth," he leaned forward, pretty sure of what was on her mind. "We can't hole up

in Atlantis afraid of catching a disease, or causing one. Hell," he waved a hand, "this one came from our own home world."

Her smile was thin. "I know." She shook her head, "I just can't imagine…."

"Then don't." John interrupted. He held her gaze. "It's dangerous to go through the gate. We all know the risks." He sat back in his chair and sighed. "That said, we can take precautions. Check in with worlds we visit routinely. Make sure they're okay. And require medical examinations for all returning off-world teams, or any visitors." He took a deep breath and stood. "In the meantime, I'm back to playing light switch for McKay." He let out a heavy sigh.

Elizabeth's brooding expression lightened considerably. "Try not to shoot him, John," she teased.

John quirked his brows. "No promises. He's roped me in for a whole week." A playful smile quirked his lips. "Not sure I can last that long." He grinned, glad to see her laugh in return.

"Get out of here. I have work to do." She waved at the door.

Burying his hands in his pockets, John sauntered out of her office. He took a deep breath as he crossed Ops and headed down the Gate Room stairs. He was still a little sore, and got tired easily, but he could feel the strength returning to his body. In the back of his mind, he wondered what other unknowns they might face out there in the galaxy, but he knew it wouldn't stop them from exploring. They were here to unlock the secrets of Atlantis and find a way to defeat the Wraith.

His smile faded. The Wraith, more than anything, trumped the risks of going through the gate to other worlds. They still didn't know when the Wraith would attack, but he was positive that it was inevitable. And when they did, Atlantis… he had to be ready. Even on light duty, he could still work towards that goal.

With a renewed sense of purpose, he left the Gate Room behind him.

* * *

><p>REQUEST:<p>

slice of life fic in Atlantis, day to day stuff with a side order of off world whump to intervene- laundry, haircuts- who does them? Detailing the jumpers, counting armoury, literally making a milk run for the canteen/mess. Set early in season 1 before contact with Earth/SGC. Getting by with diminishing rations/supplies.


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